Greetings, my darlings,
I’m so thrilled to bring you the third book in the Ludlow Nights franchise. The adventures of Anastacia, Danni and T.C. continue with cameo appearances from the Ferranti family (and Sophia of course).
Here’s an exclusive sneak peek:
Sean Kennedy had a simple rule when it came to women—
if they were hard work—
he didn’t bother.
Why put himself through unnecessary hassle?
And then he met a blonde bombshell…
She is beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is woman, and therefore to be won.
From the moment Sean Kennedy frisked T.C. he captivated her. The look in the bodyguard’s tawny eyes for her was too intense, insanely sexy and dominant. He was a powerful man who towered over everyone. And a man who believed he could have anything and anyone. Despite T.C.’s reservations, she had a night of passion with him. A night which brought the demons of her past into her present and her future.
Demons that have no intention of ever letting her go.
But Sean was a man prepared to fight dirty for the woman he wanted.
And a man who’d never lost a battle—yet.
“You have the luck of the Irish, alright. It is not every day a man saves two lives, is hit by a bus and survives to tell the tale.”
Propped up on pillows in his hospital bed, Sean Kennedy eyed the tall, blonde bombshell.
Theresa Catliff was a stunner all right and mouth-wateringly gorgeous. Today, she wore a floaty summer dress the color of her eyes, a vivid violet. She seemed to have an unending collection of floaty dresses. The way the fabric tightened against her superb breasts, he was sure they were designed to test a man. The dress had little shoestring straps. Little straps that might take a man mere seconds to untie. Her smooth skin had been kissed by the sun.
Sean closed his eyes, not only against the agony of his ribs, but the ache between his legs. He was assigned to protect the head of Ferranti Communications, Anastacia Morgan, fiancée of Italian soccer star, Olivier Conti. And in that role he’d saved Anastacia and her friend Danni. Hence the part where he’d been hit by a bus and was now lying in a hospital bed in Paris. Fortunately for him he hadn’t broken anything. But, he’d ended up with a concussion and banged up ribs.
Theresa, aka T.C., was one of Anastacia’s best pals and the bane of Sean’s existence.
For six days she’d taken on the role of his fake fiancée.
He’d been out of it when, in order to gain access to his room, she’d lied to the medical staff and told them she was his bride-to-be. On day one, she’d pitched up in his room with a silver “Get-Well-Soon” balloon and an enormous purple teddy bear. The bear’s maniacal grin had seriously freaked him out during a delirium caused by his bump on the head. Then she’d proceeded to have an argument with his doctor —in horribly bad French—about pain medication. She appeared to have the uncanny knack of being able to tell, simply by looking at him, he was in pain.
Although Sean didn’t believe in the existence of magic, he’d begun to wonder if she was a witch.
Six days later and the woman had his entire medical team eating out of her hand.
Seemed she’d taken to the role of a loving, caring fiancée like the proverbial duck to water.
As he opened his eyes and examined her flawless face, her dancing blue eyes held their usual challenge. He swore that when he was back on his feet, he’d kiss the very breath from that voluptuous body. “I thought you’d have gone home today with your little pals.”
In response to his cranky tone, her eyes narrowed in a long and very slow study of his face.
A study that saw too damn much.
“Didn’t take your pain meds again. Did you?”
Yup, definitely a witch.
“They make me feel as if I’m floating.”
“Better floating than being a bad tempered growly bastard. I pity the poor nursing staff around you, I really do.” She dropped a leather bag the size of a small town on a visitor chair, moved towards his bedside cabinet and opened the top drawer to rummage around his personal stuff. When the scent of her slid around his senses, warm woman, shampoo and summer, Sean closed his eyes to enjoy the moment. Christ, she smelled incredible. When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she turned to him, held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Gimme.”
Wincing, he slid his hand beneath his pillow, found two pills and told himself the only reason he was giving in without a fight was because the pain in his ribs hurt like hell.
He dropped the pills into her palm.
“Stop being such a man, Sean. Don’t you understand that if you don’t take these you won’t get enough rest to heal?”
He knew he’d received a head injury that may make a person feel as if they’re having out of body experiences, but he found it beyond weird that Theresa Catliff was acting as if she gave a hot damn about him. Before he’d been hit by a bus, she’d made it clear, to put it mildly, he was not her favorite person. The idea struck him that perhaps her daily visits to make sure he was alive was a gratitude thing. And didn’t that make him feel sick to the stomach, disappointed and downright pissed off?
“Why do you care?” he growled.
Her brows rose. “Hell if I know. If you carry on with the bad attitude, I won’t give you your present. Open up.” She poured a glass of water, popped the pills into his mouth and watched him wash them down.
Her full lips, painted a glossy red, twitched when he poked out his tongue to prove it.
Christ, now he was behaving like a three-year-old.
He closed his eyes and inhaled her scent.
Truth be told, he was too fucking exhausted to care or to fight with her.
When gentle fingertips brushed his hair back from his forehead, Sean’s eyes blinked wide open. He stared into hers and believed he caught a tender look in those baby blues that reminded him of his mother when he’d had mumps. The look was gone in an instant as if it had never been. Sean decided he was hallucinating because to compare the blonde bombshell with his sturdy but loving Irish mother was plain crazy.
However, the pain meds were kicking in.
He closed his eyes and took a careful deep breath to inflate his lungs, something his physio had told him was crucial to ward off bugs like pneumonia. His groan of agony was heartfelt.
It was pure shock, when her mouth whispered over his and it hit him with the force of a tsunami.
His heart pounded in his ears and his dick snapped to attention as if it was eighteen again.
He squeezed his eyes tight shut because there was no way a sissy cotton hospital gown and single blanket would hide his body’s betrayal.
“Oh, my good Lord,” the witch whispered.
Oh Lord, indeed, Sean thought viciously.
Ah, I cannot tell you the fun I’ve had with this couple and I hope you enjoy them, too.
I’m working on NO RULES and OUR RULES as well as this particular finale THE RULES.
There is no rest for the wicked!